far away, long ago, growing dim as an ember, things my heart used to know Who: Genevieve Albrecht, Juliette Coulombe, Audrey Leradine What: Reuniting the Coulombe sisters Where: Genevieve’s estate When: 6:15pm Rating: PG Status: Complete!
It had not taking much convincing of Audrey - Alys, she corrected herself; to help integrate Alys back into the societal structure of Emillion, she would do well to remember the name - to meet with Juliette prior to announcing herself to the city at large. Nor had it been much effort to convince the Demiels to release Juliette into her care for an evening. She had not enlightened Juliette as to the occasion for their dinner plans, and the young woman was so unerringly polite that, should it have crossed her mind to ask Genevieve, she would likely not dare it.
She had left Alys at the estate in order to become acclimated to the environment - Genevieve’s home was no brothel, and while many a sordid thing had happened there in the past, it was not likely that Alys would become acquainted with them - and had left to fetch Juliette. Strict instructions had been left for Alys to follow upon their arrival; she did not wish to shock Juliette into a faint, and Alys was looking to build bridges with her younger sister, not burn them.
And so when they entered Genevieve’s manor, Alys was to be awaiting their arrival, dressed in the tasteful dress that had been left for her. Whether or not such would occur, Genevieve did not know, and while she hoped to facilitate a reconciliation of sorts, she did not overly care if that particular instruction was paid heed. It was more for Alys’ sake in getting used to the layers of clothing that the nobility wore rather than for Juliette’s sensibilities.
“Dinner,” she said to Juliette as they entered the foyer, “shall be ready no later than a quarter to seven.” She had ensured that extra was prepared - Juliette was a growing woman, and an active fighter. A diet of greens and small servings of fish would not do.
There were a number of things about this evening which were quite strange. In all her years of knowing the Countess (and despite all of Lady Demiel’s various attempts), she had never been to this manor prior to today. Further, she had been collected by Genevieve herself instead of being left to make her own way, though Lady Demiel would have certainly called her a hovercab for such a momentous invitation as this.
She had been primped and polished to the furthest extent possible; her dress was perhaps a bit frillier than good taste truly called for, but it was neat and modest and suited to dinner with someone of high rank. She had suffered through the curling of her hair and the application of light cosmetics; she felt a bit like a painted china doll, but at least she had been allowed to go. An entire evening in the company of someone unlikely to either berate or proposition her, personally or in the name of a well-meaning relative -- it was almost too good to hope for.
Accordingly, she smiled gratefully up at Genevieve and told her, quite honestly, “Thank you. I am honored to have been invited.”
“There is no need for such formalities,” Genevieve replied, “and I am happy to have you .” Despite the potential complications that could arise from this endeavor, the idea of having a meal with someone other than herself - or Aspel and Azalea on the rare occasion - held a great appeal. She was not the type to invite people into her home on a whim, but perhaps a dinner party or some such event in the future would not be amiss.
“Let us retire to the sitting room until dinner is ready,” she suggested, leading Juliette through the entryway and hall. The sitting room had, in actuality, been Alistair’s office, and as such still retained much of the old decor. She had added a piece here and there, but the walls were still lined with bookshelves - filled with scrolls and notebooks full of her and Alistair’s notes, as well as maps and tomes on magickal theory - and his desk still remained in front of the bay window.
Alys should be waiting, she knew, and so she said, “We have another guest joining us for dinner this eve.” She did not know how Alys wished to handle this, but Genevieve was merely here as a facilitator.
Juliette’s heart sunk. She couldn’t help it. How often had she heard those words, only to be faced with someone’s son, nephew, or third cousin? She hadn’t expected it from the Countess, who had seemed sympathetic to her plight, but…
“I will look forward to meeting them,” she murmured. As they entered the sitting room, however, the guest turned out to not be at all who she expected -- a well-dressed young woman sat on one of the couches. It took less than a moment to place where she had seen her face before -- although she had been attired quite differently then, Juliette remembered that day in the outlands with unfortunate clarity. She had dreamt of it for two weeks, and those dreams had been decidedly unsettling. “I…” she said, then stopped, realizing she never had gotten her chance benefactor’s name that day. Lord Finch hadn’t known it, and she hadn’t dared ask Quenten’s brother, whom she barely knew. “It is good to see you,” she managed at last. “I never really got the opportunity to thank you.”
As instructed, Audrey had obediently worn what Genevieve had laid out for her this evening. Her hair was pulled in a braided updo, decorated with a thin headband. The nerves had set in while she awaited the arrival of the countess and her little sister. Wringing her hands on her lap, she had to get up and pace around the room a couple of times before she could truly come back and sit down on the couch. Once she felt she had finally gotten the butterflies under control, her eyes darted to the door at the sound of the door knob jiggling.
There was no room to run.
Her stare was solely on Juliette as she quickly stood up. Her look of awe had changed into a soft smile, a familial look. “I am glad you are in good health,” she replied with a nod. Her smile widened slightly before she shook her head. “There is no need for thanks. Something deep inside told me it was my duty to see you safely home.” Audrey sat back down on the sofa, resting her hands on her lap. Her mouth had opened as though she wanted to say something, but then closed again unsure how to proceed with said information. She had recited this in the mirror for some time now in different scenarios but for now her words felt frozen, incapable of leaving her lips.
“I see you are already acquainted,” Genevieve said, forcing bemusement into her tone. A rather easy task, considering her lot in life, really, and undetectable by all but a few. It had not occurred to her to ask Alys about the extent of their acquaintance. This will make things slightly more difficult, she thought. It was fortunate she did not expect this road to be smooth.
“Juliette, please take a seat.” She indicated the chair nearest Alys’ perch on the sofa and took the recliner on the other side. Such an eclectic set up, she knew; it made Lady Demiel quite uncomfortable. Small pleasures. “If I might formally introduce the two of you. Lady Juliette Coulombe, this is Lady Alys Coulombe. Lady Alys, this is Lady Juliette.” She paused, waiting for the shock Juliette was sure to feel to pass. “It seems as though your sister has been very much alive, though she did not retain any of her memories prior to early this week.”
Introductions complete, Genevieve sat back, content to observe.
Whatever Juliette had expected Genevieve to say, it had not been that. She had probably looked confused before; the expression gracing her face now was likely utterly bewildered. She knew the name, of course. She had memorized all their names. “I… what? But…” My entire family is dead. And to tell the truth, even sitting here, being told this by a person she had known, liked, and trusted most of her life, she still didn’t believe it. The Countess had been the last person of whom she would expect cruelty, but…
Audrey could read by her mere expression the disbelief in her eyes. Her hand came up to fiddle with the necklace she had now worn on a daily basis-- the last token of her mother. Juliette wouldn’t know, but the Demiels would. With a sigh, she looked back at her little sister. “I am here to take custody of you-- away from the Demiels. I hear they are pressuring into marriage and I will not stand for that.” It was the truth she spoke, but a frown still lingered on her lips. “I do not know how to convince you of the truth. You were but a babe when the house was set aflame. I held you but a couple of times. As all of us were, you were at mother’s side at all time.”
There was a long pause again. “What do you wish of me?”
Things were going better than Genevieve had anticipated. Juliette still appeared quite shell-shocked, though there was little Genevieve could blame her for on this account. She imagined it would be quite shocking to learn that a long-dead family member or friend had, in fact, been very much alive the entire time. And, in Juliette’s case, Alys had remained in Emillion the entire time.
“It is not Alys’ fault she was taken from you,” Genevieve said quietly. At least, not entirely. “And I do apologize for the sudden shock, however now that she has regained memory of who she is, we felt it only right to inform you at once.”
Genevieve didn’t appear to be lying -- and had anyone told her even an hour prior that she might be considering whether the countess might lie to her, Juliette would have been affronted. But her words seemed as though they were true, and the other guest -- Alys? Could it actually be Alys? -- was talking about taking custody when Juliette was still processing the introduction, and…
Juliette shook her head, tried to breathe and clear her mind as she had been taught. She had never thought she would use these teachings for such a situation. As a small child, she had imagined that her family might magically appear and take her away, but that had been years ago; she had not thought seriously of the possibility in a long time.
But what if it was true? What if?
“You talked… differently. Before.” When they had met in the outlands, her speech had been coarse, and now, her phrasing was entirely different. Was she simply different in battle? Or was it… something else? Could she dare believe this? “You didn’t… remember, then?”
Audrey calmly shook her head. “I faintly did. I felt an attachment to you. I knew something linked us together. It was a frustrating moment, really. I was trying to keep you safe at the same time I was trying to figure out how I knew your name.” Taking a deep breath, she looked down at her hands. “I wish to tell you the truth about what really happened that night fifteen years ago. It is hard for me, especially, as my mind felt it was best for me to lock away those memories. When people undergo such stress, the mind has a way of selectively blocking it. The doctor who saw me referred to is as psychogenic amnesia.” She forced her little sister a smile, though it seemed painful more than anything. “Recently I had injured my head in a chocobo riding accident. The doctor told me I was out for about three days. When I awoke, I was left to cope with the pain I had left behind when I was ten.”
Audrey had reached out to place her hand lightly over Juliette’s. “I wish to apologize for my absence. I wish I had not left you alone-- especially with the Demiels.” Her smile widened. “I am saddened to remember how unbearable they were as a child.”
“I don’t know what to say.” These soft words seemed the only appropriate response -- saying yes, they are horrible, and leaving me alone with them for years was horrible, was probably not the right thing to do, considering the circumstances, but her emotions were already roiling after the many unpleasant shocks of the week prior, and this surprise, while not strictly unpleasant, was the biggest of all.
But she didn’t pull her hand away, either.
There was little point in Genevieve remaining. With a small smile, she stood, smoothing her skirts - she had deliberately chosen to dress in something befitting her class, though it was mostly for the Demiels’ sake as opposed to Juliette’s or Alys’. “If you will excuse me, I shall check on dinner. I won’t be but a moment.”
She looked at Alys and nodded. The girl was doing well, and this additional time alone would only serve to further cement their bond. She would give them some time alone and return only when dinner was served. Without another word, she exited the room and gently closed the door.
Audrey smiled at her sister, squeezing her hand momentarily before removing it back onto her lap. “There is no need. It is a lot to take in, I just appreciate both yours and Countess Albrecht’s time.” She paused for a moment. “However, it is your decision whether or not you wish for me to take custody of you. I do not want to force you into anything you do not desire,” she said as she gave Juliette a reassuring smile and a nod.
“Ask anything of me that you will.”
“I don’t know,” Juliette repeated. Was that the only thing she could manage to say anymore? This was all just so terribly confusing. And now it was just the two of them and she really didn’t know what to do. This was supposed to be -- was -- her sister, by far the closest person she had in the world. But also a stranger. It was disconcerting. “I’ve not considered the possibility.” At least, not since she had been young and naive and very foolish. “I… would you be terribly offended if I… took some time to think?”
And that made it sound as though she didn’t want it, and in fact, it was that she wanted too much to find a way out of her situation. But she couldn’t simply agree to something so far-fetched, could she? Half an hour ago, she had not realized she had any family at all.
Audrey smiled again and shook her head. “No. I understand. Take the time you need. As of now, I will be taking away the pressure of the inheritance off your shoulders. You have had enough of that, I am sure. I wish to reconstruct the estate as soon as I am wed and have the money. For now, Countess Albrecht has been kind to offer me her guest house. If you have any questions after today, you are welcome to seek me there.”
“The Countess has?” Juliette asked, perplexed. She had known the Countess most of her life, and this was her first time at this estate. How much must the older woman trust Alys, to make such an offer? “You must have known her… before? Before you remembered,” she clarified. It was too generous an offer to be anything else.
Audrey shook her head. “Hardly. I knew the Countess through the Bards’ Guild-- through the Duke, of course. I did a lot of security, mainly for merchants and securing their wares. I met the Countess that way. One of her shipments had been lost, some valuable wine from Kerwon, and I had been hired to find said shipment and since then we have kept friendly terms. When I awoke, I hadn’t a clue who to come forth with this information, but the Countess had always been so kind to me so after some heavy deliberation I had reached out to her.”
“I am glad she was able to help.” There was little to say, really. She had questions about the life Alys had lived these last fifteen years, but it seemed somehow wrong to ask them. She had seen her in the field once, of course -- her style of fighting was unusual, nothing like the techniques taught in the Fighters’ Guild, but she was clearly very competent in it -- so she had no doubt there would be stories, if she dared ask for them. But she simply didn’t know her well enough to dare. “It must be so strange for you,” she murmured instead, sympathy shining through the confusion; living a different life before coming into this one would have to be jarring.
“The estate has been gone all my life; I cannot recall it,” she added after a moment of silence. “I was too young to remember… anything, really.” She had wished desperately to have something to grasp when she had been younger, but all she had was old portraits. She wanted to ask about that too, to demand, tell me about our parents, but was there really a polite way to do so? Maybe it was silly to cling to such social norms, but they were all she had.
Even if this situation was so far outside the norm that she expected rules had never been written to account for it.
Juliette was not a trained member of the thief’s guild. It was easy to read the struggling argument on her face. She remembered the days when she had tried to do what Juliette struggled to do now, except she had never made it nearly as far as her strong little sister. “You can speak your thoughts,” Audrey tried to offer as comforting a smile as she could offer. “I won’t judge you or take your words painfully. I wish to be your sister first, a noble second. So please do not filter yourself.”
The words reminded Juliette of something Morgayne had said to her some time ago -- and that, she told herself sternly, was not something to be thinking about right now. That was an entirely unrelated problem, and she did not need to cry again and… “I am afraid I do not entirely… know how,” she said after a few moments of thought. She had told her friend this, too. “I have questions for you but… I cannot guess what might be distressing, and so I feel I cannot ask them.”
“You wish me to talk about our parents, do you not?”
Well. That was rather abrupt. Yet another sign that Alys had not had the sort of upbringing that Juliette had suffered. “You said you were still… coping with the pain you had left behind as a child,” she finally managed lamely. “I cannot remember but… it must have been terrible for you. I did not wish to ask in case…”
She didn’t like the way Juliette carefully walked around her. It made her feel dangerous and untrusted. The blonde supposed it would be something that would change the more they got to know each other, but for now she bit the inside of her mouth and continued through her frustrations. “No amount of time will ever soothe the pain I felt all those years ago. It would not matter if you ask me today or on my deathbed. I am not a child anymore and must face the world like an adult. There is no longer room for excuses on my end. What do you wish to know?”
Another long pause, but there was really only one answer to this question: “Everything.” Another pause, then, “What our parents were like, what our brothers were like, anything you remember. I never knew any of them.” She wasn’t going to cry. She wasn’t. “All I have are pictures and stories from the Demiels who…………… were not fond of Father.” And, she hoped, these stories were untrue; she did not want to believe that her family had been unpleasant, though she had long realized that Lady Demiel found most people who did not fawn over her unpleasant.
An amused grin twisted onto her lips as she leaned close to her younger sister. With her hand on the sofa’s arm, she closed her lips. “First tell me the lies they told you.”
“People rarely talk about them, at least to me.” Maybe it was to spare her delicate sensibilities, even if she would rather have known. “I am told our father was……. unconventional,” and the next thing to common, “and our mother was very lovely but lacking in… propriety and sense.” Juliette looked down at her hands, which she had clasped tightly in her lap, before adding, “There was some scandal about their marriage. Lady Demiel is very determined I not follow in her footsteps.” Which was, frankly, a ridiculous worry -- she wasn’t likely to run off with anyone, flimsy title or otherwise. Mostly, the idea of marriage still made her deeply uncomfortable.
“Lady Demiel is just a self-absorbed hag, you should know this, and mother treated her without any pretenses.” She rested her head back, going through the jumbled memories of her childhood. Memories she had put away, replacing with Audrey’s childhood. “Father was a hard worker, therefore strict. I think he knew very well what he was up against-- especially with people like the Demiels trying to besmirch his name. Still he handled it as proudly as he could. I adored appa. He would have let me get away with murder, though he wasn’t like that to Thomas.” Audrey had paused to frown. “Thomas had a difficult relationship with appa. It often revolved around trying to please him as the first-born son and having to face his harsh words whenever he met failure. He just wanted the best for Thomas. I know it.”
“Then there was mother. I am sure you have seen the photos. She was absolutely gorgeous. Always prim. Always proper. If anyone ever said a bad word about her, it was out of jealousy. Despite that, there were people who stirred her.” She leaned close and whispered, “and this is one of the things I loved most about mother-- it was her wit. She could slap a fool around with just her words.” Grinning she pressed her back to the sofa again. “Mother loved appa. I think Lady Demiel was jealous she was stuck with Lord Demiel.” Audrey grinned. “Really, you should not take that woman’s words to heart.”
Juliette sat and listened as Alys spoke so frankly of things she had never known. Her lips were slightly parted and her expression rapt; these were the sorts of things she wanted to be told, about her parents as people, about the family she had been a part of, if only for a short time.
And -- perhaps it was ungrateful of her, but -- it was comforting to hear someone dismiss Lady Demiel as someone not worth listening to; while Juliette recognized she owed the woman a great deal, she still could not like her, let alone love her. She had tried for so long that she was certain it must be a personal failing.
The thought came, unbidden -- could she learn to like and trust this woman? Surely she, with her frank demeanor and warm recollections of their shared family would be better than what Juliette had now? The thought was as appealing as it was terrifying.
She had never done well with sudden change.
Fortunately, she was saved from having to express any of this by the return of the Countess, who swept back into the room with a pleasant smile on her face.
“It appears,” Genevieve said as the two young women looked to her, “that dinner is served.” It was a shame, she thought, as it seemed the two were getting on quite well, but what was done was done. There would be plenty more chances for Alys and Juliette to speak, especially if everything worked out as Alys had hoped. A large part would rest with the Demiels, she knew; it was within their rights to attempt to wrest custody of Juliette from Alys, who had been all but dead all these years, under the rationale that the young noblewoman had not a gil to her name and not near enough to support a growing lady.
Fortunately, that was where Genevieve would come in.
Her smile widened as she led the two towards the dining room. “We’ve so much to discuss,” she said. Plans to make and cons to execute, and who better than Genevieve to facilitate them? It was, after all, one of her many talents. “Shall we?”